That's All I Ask Of You
by MamaAshley
Summary: Instead of Raoul following Christine and Erik down into the lair and completely ruining everything- what if Christine and Erik had more time together and things took a different route? Would Christine make the same choices? Rated M for some adult content of course. My vision of an alternative ending to Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera.
1. Chapter 1

**That's All I Ask Of You**

 _ **Instead of Raoul following Christine and Erik down into the lair and completely ruining everything- what if Christine and Erik had more time together and things took a different route? Would Christine make the same choices? Rated M for some adult content of course. My vision of an alternative ending to Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera. I own no rights to the characters.**_

*****Set during opening night of Don Juan*********

In the shadow of a dozen dying candles the Vicomte de Chagny stood irritably. Raoul had made his way down to the quaint sanctuary of the ballet dormitory where he hoped to find Christine. More than once in the past few days he had found her there on her knees silently speaking to the angels. _But to which angel was she praying?_ The delicately winged maiden that covered the stone wall or was it her dark angel that her prayers secretly spoke? Raoul did not want to know the answer.

He had arrived to find the room empty; Christine must have already left to prepare for the evening's performance.

 _The Phantom's Opera_. _In a matter of hours that abomination would be in shackles and Christine will never have to see this place again._

He vowed to sweep her away to his family's estate in the country and there they would find solace in each other. In a matter of hours, they would both be free of the Opera Populaire and its deadly master forever.

In the place where she always knelt in prayer was a single red rose. Raoul eyed the dainty flower with utter loathing, it seemed to mock him with its innocent petals. Soft, red petals that spoke of passionate love, embraces and fevered kisses.He wanted to crush it between his fingers. Before he could reach down for it, however, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a draft of cold air made the candles sputter and flicker. That was when he felt _his_ presence. Turning on his heel Raoul spied his enemy leaning casually against the far wall. Like their meeting in the cemetery he was dressed in his black attire along with his billowing cloak and white mask covering half his face. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as though he did not have a care in the world.

"You!" Raoul hissed, reaching for the hilt of a sword that was not there.

"Me." The Phantom replied darkly. A cruel smirk had spread across his lips. "How easy it would be to just kill you right here. Tighten a noose around that precious neck of yours and leave you to the mercy of the rats."

Raoul stiffened his back in anger. "If I recall correctly, it was I who almost killed _you_ in the cemetery."

The Phantom had the nerve to shrug. "Out of my element, a moment of passion-filled anger, the point is…" He looked directly into Raoul's eyes as if he were looking into his soul. "This is my realm. I am in control here, not a thing happens within these walls that I not know about."

Raoul stiffened. _Surely he could not know about their plan?_

"And Christine is _mine_."

"She will never be yours!" Raoul spit out.

"She is already more mine than you can possibly understand _Vicomte_! My music calls to her, it is the siren's call that awakens her soul and ignites her passions. You have already witnessed the power my music has over her."

It was true, Raoul had witnessed it firsthand. In the thralls of her angel's music Christine not only became frightfully obedient but also her voice reached a beauty that he would have never believed possible on this earth. Among the tombstones Christine had followed this voice as if her very life depended upon her voice blending with his. The look of unbearable bliss on her face was branded into Raoul's memory.

"The power of our music has a rather powerful… _sexual_ bearing. Wouldn't you agree, Vicomte? Truly beautiful music can cause the most properly trained courtier to become a ravenous child of desire."

Now the monster was toying with him. Against his will Raoul's mind was suddenly bombarded with images of Christine in the thralls of passion. Her beautiful mane of chestnut hair sprawled across satin pillows. Her eyes heavy with unfulfilled desire; her pale breasts bare and begging to be kissed. Her sweet angelic voice crying out in ecstasy. It was too much to bear.

"You mean to take that away from my Christine." The bite had returned to the Phantom's voice. "I know your kind, _boy,_ your aristocratic cesspool of lies and corruption. Of course you would at first take my Christine and lavish her with fine gowns, jewels, and a marriage within the elite of France. You would tell her you that love her and how you will always keep her safe from her dark angel and never ever break her heart…..but the years will go by and Christine will be forced to shed her passion and talent or else bring shame to the great name of De Chagny. When you have drained her of her voice you will grow bored with her. You will grow to gamble, drink and fornicate like the other degenerates that walk my halls who think a family name makes them gods."

Raoul shook his head in denial. Lies. It was all lies.

"What could you possibly offer her? What could you ever do for her?" Raoul spat at the Phantom. "You live among rats and stalk Opera managers. You have nothing to give her but darkness."

"I have given her hope. I have given her innocent dreams of safety and love. I was her friend during years of grief. Friend, mentor, and now admirer."

"Murderer!" Raoul hissed.

"Protector!" The Phantom growled back. "Buquet was swine that needed to be slaughtered. I caught him raping a chorus girl and his eyes were fixed on my Christine next. I have killed to protect her!"

Raoul went silent at those words.

"And she still loves me." The Phantom's words echoed around him.

 _God have mercy_ , Raoul thought; _please don't_ _let it be so_.

As jealousy snaked its way up to coil in the pit of his stomach he truly looked at his advisory. He was surprised to see that the Phantom was not as old as he expected him to be. He could not have been more than a score older than he was but his arms and legs were laced with hidden strength. He was at least a foot taller than Raoul and that part of his face not concealed by the mask was fair enough to be considered handsome. With full lips, dark hair and deep brown eyes, he truly was a devilish maestro to behold. _Damn him._ It made Raoul hate him even more. It also made him curious what he could possibly be hiding behind that mask. The Phantom's dark eyes never left Raoul's face.

"You have interfered in our happiness for the last time. You are poisoning Christine's mind against me…but I shall give you one last chance."

The Phantom stepped fully out of the shadows and advanced on Raoul who had to suppress the urge to fall back. He would not show fear.

"Leave this place. Tonight. Never let me hear your name again. Never seek out Christine again or I will rip out the heart from your chest that lusts for what's mine."

Turning to leave the Phantom looked over his shoulder. "Christine is mine: mind, soul, and soon in body."

"You…you…you cannot possess her if she has already given herself to me!" Raoul cried at his back.

God forgive him, it was a cruel lie but in a moment of fear and hatred he blurted it out. Raoul believed that if the Phantom thought he couldn't claim Christine's purity then perhaps Christine would be safer. Before he could blink Raoul found himself violently pinned to the wall. He struggled to claw at the leather gloved fingers crushing his windpipe but it was useless. The Phantom's masked face came right up to Raoul's. Eyes that burned with hatred and pain stared back at him.

"I should kill you! How I want to! My Christine! Your pathetic hands are unfit to caress her skin, you insolent _boy_!"

Just when Raoul thought he was about to black out, he was suddenly released. While he coughed and gasped for air at the Phantoms feet, the monster looked down at him in disgust.

Breathing heavily the Phantom snarled down at him, "I've grown tired of being made to play the villain. I won't make you the hero by spilling your blood. Know that your life rested in my hands, Vicomte, know that it won't happen again."

Within a blink of an eye he had vanished back into the darkness, leaving Raoul to pant and sweat on the cold stone floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Christine Daae gazed at her reflection without actually seeing it. The costume for tonight's performance was spectacular: revealing and sensual. It was the perfect attire for a nymph who played with men's affections. A touch of rouge on her cheeks and her lips were painted the color of blood, she was a vision of seduction. Madame Giry stood behind her finishing the last few laces of her corset. Her kind face was set in a disapproving frown. She had been in a less than friendly manner ever since Raoul had ordered two armed soldiers to be her constant companions. He swore it was for her own protection but Christine feared it was because he did not trust her to not run off and warn Erik of their plans. The guards were now currently waiting just outside the dressing room door.

 _Erik._

The name whispered gently inside her mind. She had been trying desperately to not think about him. The more she did the less she wanted to have anything to do with Raoul's plan.

 _Erik. Her angel. Her friend._

"I don't want to see him in chains." Christine blurted out.

"Then I suggest you call off the dogs, my dear." Madame Giry replied stiffly.

"But I can't."

Madame Giry huffed like an angry bull. "I have been mother and friend to you both. I will not stand here and comfort your guilty conscience."

"But he's dangerous." Christine stated, but her words lacked conviction. It sounded more like a question. Madame Giry's eyes found hers in the mirror.

"Answer me this, child. Why do you love the Vicomte De Chagny?"

Christine sat silently while she thought about her answer.

"He was my childhood sweetheart, my dearest friend. When I am with him I remember all the happiness I felt when I was a child…before my father died. I feel…safe."

"And how do you feel with Erik?" she asked.

Christine did not want to say her feelings out loud, saying the words would make them real. If they were real, then she could not deny them.

"With Erik I don't feel like a child…I feel like a woman." Christine's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. "Our music makes me feel as if I can do anything, as if I could leave my own skin and fly up to touch the stars. I feel special and glorious. His voice…it makes me feel things." Christine dropped her gaze down into her lap. "Sss..sexual. Seductive. It frightens me but also excites me. Mercy, I feel so ashamed to speak it aloud."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of by admitting that. It is a very common feeling for a woman to feel with a man she loves." Madame Giry said this more gently as if she knew from distant memory the feeling far too well.

"But Raoul can make me a vicomtess. I'll be the envy of every woman in Paris. I'll have security and wealth." Christine was not sure who she was trying to convince: herself or Madame Giry.

"If that is what will make you happy."

 _Would it though?_ Christine thought. That was what every girl dreamed of: a handsome wealthy husband and a fairytale life.

Only…she dreamed of music. She dreamed…of an angel.

Her heart was heavy with doubt and confusion. Madame Giry placed the final touch to her costume: a deep red rose pinned into her curls. _His rose._

The sight of the flower pulled the words from her lips. "I love them both."

After a silent moment Madame Giry place one gentle hand on Christine's shoulder.

"I know you do, sweet child, and they both love you. However, you are going to have to choose. Playing with hearts can be a dangerous business even if you do not mean to."

A sudden knocking at the door made Christine jump. Madame Giry strode to the door and opened it to find Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. They both looked positively fidgety. Of the two of them, Firmin looked the most anxious. He was twisting his white opera gloves so hard in his hands that they were on the verge of ripping.

"Ah, my dear Giry," Firmin greeted, "I trust our star is ready for the opera ghost's….ah I mean our new performance. Everything is ready of course."

"Yes, yes, she is ready. However, it would be best if she were given a few moments to herself."

Christine watched as Madame Giry closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with her confusion.

 _What should I do?_ Tonight she would have to choose one, and crush the heart of the other.

Giry turned back towards the managers and gave an annoyed puff of air.

"And if you two will excuse me, I wish to prepare myself for tonight as well. All this security nonsense is going to make me late and I am _never_ late."

"Now be reasonable, Madame," Andres pleaded, "We have a madman on the loose."

"The only madmen I see are the two right in front of me if you think that even for a second that _He_ doesn't know what you are planning."

With a crisp swish of her skirts Madame Giry turned away from the horror stricken looks of the managers and walked briskly down the hall. Her armed escort had to break into a run to catch up with her. A few minutes later they had reached the corridor to her private quarters. She immediately noticed that the door was slightly ajar. She always kept her door locked.

The ballet mistress grabbed the door handle and twirled around on one foot to face the guards. They stumbled on their own feet in an attempt to not walk right into her.

"Thank you gentlemen, now if you don't mind…." She swiftly stepped through the doorway and with a loud bang she slammed the door in their faces.

"My, my. Someone has irritated you today, Madeline." Came a voice right behind her.

Madeline Giry turned around to come face to face with Erik who had just lit the gas lamp. She was only a few years older than Erik but she had always felt like a mother towards him. He was a grown man and towered over her but she still felt the incredible need to protect him from the world. She let out a tired breath.

"Erik, this madness can't go on. Guards roaming the halls of the opera house. Stage hands hanging from the rafters…I can't believe you did that!"

"I am not sorry about that!" Erik said roughly. "You knew what a lecherous pig he was. How many of your ballet girls did he fondle before I got my noose around his neck?"

Giry knew it was true that Buquet most likely did deserve his fate but it was never a good idea to encourage Erik's actions.

"Well why did you have to make a show of it? Right in the middle of the opera for heaven's sake! And the masquerade, Erik! You should have known that the managers would eventually do something."

"Those soldiers are here because of that _boy_." Erik's eyes had grown darker behind his black mask. _Black mask?_ Giry had only just realized what Erik was dressed in. He was wearing an exact copy of Piangi's costume. Madeline was afraid to know what Erik was planning to do. Erik caught her staring and grinned mischievously.

"A man has a right to be in his own opera. It will be quite a performance, Madeline." Erik then turned very serious. "And when it is over, Christine and I are leaving this place. Away from the Opera Populaire and away from that interfering Raoul and everyone else who would keep us apart. I'm afraid that this is perhaps goodbye for us, Madeline."

Giry stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. Giving it a soft squeeze she looked pleadingly into Erik's eyes. "Erik..whatever you do tonight, just promise me that you will not harm Christine. No matter what happens."

Giry knew that Erik loved Christine more than life itself but she honestly did not know what he was capable of it he thought it would lose her forever. Erik took her hand in his and kissed it gently.

"I could never harm my Christine. _Never_. She is my soul. I love her and she loves me."

A knock on her door and a voiced called out, "Madame, the ballet girls are waiting for you."

She turned to face the door. "Tell them I shall be there in a moment."

When she turned back around Erik had vanished. She


	3. Chapter 3

" _ **No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy,**_

 _ **No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love."**_

Sing.

That was all she needed to do in order to make it through this night. Sing and become the carefree Aminta who enjoyed playing with the affections of men. If she was Aminta, then she was not Christine. If she was not Christine, then she could ignore the battle raging within her heart over the two men that she could not help loving. How could you possibly choose one love over another? One born of out of innocent youth and the other from unexplored passion?

 _Raoul…..Erik…._

As she walked on to the stage she briefly glimpsed up toward Box 5 to see if her angel was there to watch his masterpiece. She ignored the slight prick of disappointment that it was Raoul who occupied the box. Where was Erik? Raoul had posted guards at every known entrance, could he have possibly been captured already?

" **Master."**

" _ **Passarinooooo…"**_

A kiss of a chill shimmied down Christine's spine. There was only one man who could sing a single note and turn it into a sensual caress- and it was not Piangi.

" _ **Go away for the trap is set, and waits for its prey."**_

She did not need to turn around to know that it was Erik, not Piangi, who had come to be her Don Juan. She would know his voice anywhere. It was her solace, her inspiration, and now it was the key to unlocking the chains of resistance around her heart.

" _ **You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge,**_

 _ **In pursuit of that wish which from now has been silent.**_

 _ **Silent."**_

His voice beckoned her to turn and face him- and she obeyed. He lifted one finger to his full lips, signaling her to not give the game away. Though she did not know if she even could.

" _ **I have brought you,**_

 _ **That our passions may fuse and merge.**_

 _ **In your mind you've already succumbed to me.**_

 _ **Dropped your defenses, completely succumbed to me."**_

 _Oh Erik, why do you have such power over me?_ Christine sighed mutely. _Why does my heart refuse to hate you? It would be so much easier to resist him if she could only hate him._

" _ **Now you are here with me,**_

 _ **No second thoughts.**_

 _ **You've decided.**_

 _ **Decided."**_

 _Had she truly decided?_

He continued to sing to her, his tenor powerful yet smooth as the silk resting on her thighs. He was a magnificent Don Juan; dark sensuality flowed about him like a cloak. His deep eyes pierced her behind his black mask. A flutter of fans moved the still air as the ladies of the crowd also felt the effects of his presence. With his velvet voice and dark attire, he was an exotic masked Lothario walking out of the fires of hell to claim a girl's virtue.

" _ **Past the point of no return,**_

 _ **No backward glances,**_

 _ **Our games of make- believe are at an end.**_

 _ **Past all thought of it or when.**_

 _ **No use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend."**_

Once more, she found herself helpless to resist his music. She followed him as he became her very own Don Juan. Every movement was more sensual; every note became more passionate until she found herself within his embrace. Her breath caught within her breast as his hand curled possessively around his neck and waist. She was not afraid though, try as she might, she could not help but be enthralled. Her eyes closed at the first touch of him which caused her not to see Raoul's eyes widening in confusion and dawning dread. Her sighs were a little too real to just be an act.

" _ **What raging fire shall flood the soul?"**_

Oh Lord in heaven, how could she fall so easily? She could feel his heat burn her as his fingers glided over her skin.

" _ **What rich desire unlocks its door?**_

 _ **What sweet seduction lies before us?"**_

This was not just an opera; it was a true dance of seduction. Erik touched her just enough for her body to crave more. His eyes never left hers so that she knew his song was only meant for her. His voice challenged her to answer his call in return.

" _ **Past the point of no return,**_

 _ **The final threshold,**_

 _ **What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?**_

 _ **Beyond the point of no return."**_

An echo of Raoul's voice inside her mind begged her not to sing, to not join him in this dangerous dance. However, Christine had to…no she _needed_ to sing.

" _ **You have brought me, to that moment when words run dry,**_

 _ **To the moment when speech disappears into silence,**_

 _ **Silence.**_

 _ **I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why.**_

 _ **In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining,**_

 _ **Defenseless and silent.**_

 _ **Now I am here with you,**_

 _ **No seconds thoughts.**_

 _ **I've decided, decided."**_

As a phoenix rises from its ashes reborn, for this one night, Christine let go of all restraints and flew. She was not a shy, timid, chorus girl anymore. She was a fiery song bird of passion and grace. Her voice reached a level of accomplishment that she never believed possible. Christine sang so passionately that even the most devoted opera patrons were astonished.

" _ **Past the point of no return,**_

 _ **No going back now, our passion play has now at last begun.**_

 _ **Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question,**_

 _ **How long should we two wait before we are one?**_

 _ **When will the blood begin to race?**_

 _ **The sleeping bud burst into bloom?**_

 _ **When will the flames at last consume us?"**_

Every secret stirring of heat, desire, and longing that was in her soul poured out from her lips. She was alive! Christine was intoxicated by the surge of ecstasy as she willingly stepped into Erik's powerful embrace once more; their voices intertwined to complete the final verses.

" _ **Past the point of no return,**_

 _ **The final threshold,**_

 _ **The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn.**_

 _ **We've passed the point of no return."**_

The last wave of euphoria washed over her with the final sounds of the fading orchestra. Erik and Christine held each other as if they were the only two people in the world. Both oblivious to the curious whispers that had begun to be shared behind satin gloves and fans. After their fiery exchange and dance, the embrace they shared was vividly intimate. The faintest brush of breath traveled up Christine's neck as Erik rested his masked face into her curls. Once more Erik began to sing to her but now his voice had softened and was weighed down with emotion.

"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime.

Lead me save me from my solitude.

Say you want me with you here, beside you. "

 _Raoul…..Raoul had shared those words with her the night he professed his love. Raoul….Erik…Raoul_ …

Reality broke through the illusion of euphoria as Christine turned in his arms to face him. Erik was asking her to choose him, to love only him, to give him everything that she is and will be. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes as she reached up to caress his cheek.

 _God help me. Am I strong enough to make the right decision? Oh Erik._

" _ **Say you want me with you, here beside you.**_

 _ **Anywhere you go let me go too!**_

 _ **Christine!**_

 _ **That's all I ask of…."**_

As her fingers grazed the flesh hiding beneath his mask, Christine looked into Erik's pleading eyes.

She knew.

 _I love you, Erik. I love all of you._

She pulled the mask away revealing his true face.

The skin on the right side of his face was red and raw looking; the flesh bumpy and taunt compared to the smoothness on the other side of his face. It gave the appearance that someone had tried to burn half of his face away. One side angelic, one side deformed: like two sides of a personality forced to live in harmony side by side.

Feminine screams erupted from the crowd as the guards began to run towards the stage. Erik, of course, was prepared. Tightening his grip on Christine's waist he sliced at a rope with the knife hidden up his sleeve. Kicking at a hidden lever with his boot a hidden door at their feet was released. Christine did not see the chandelier coming down as she clung to Erik as they fell down into the awaiting darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Christine did not know how long they fell. The cool air whipped violently at her skirts and the darkness blinded her to her surroundings. Closing her eyes tightly Christine instead focused on the feel of the fabric of Erik's jacket between her fingers and the combined rhythm of her heartbeat with Erik's as it pounded beneath her ear. Erik then reached out the hand that was not clutching Christine's waist and they both stopped forcibly mid-fall. By the sudden jolt that ran through Erik's body and his grunt of pain, Christine realized he must have grabbed a hold of something. The light flick of a rope grazing her leg answered her silent inquiry. So gently, Erik shimmied them down the last few feet till they reached the stone floor. As her feet touched solid ground Christine timidly opened her eyes. The light of a single burning torch illuminated Erik's unmasked face. All the sadness of the world shown within the depths of his eyes. Christine felt as if a noose was tightening around her heart.

 _How could she have been so foolish? How could she have forgotten about the hundreds of eyes watching them as she relieved him of his mask for all to see?_

She had hurt him once more. She was the monster.

"Oh Erik," she whispered, reaching up to carcass his mangled cheek.

Before her fingers could make contact Erik released her waist to grasp her wrist. Once more he shielded himself with another mask, but this one was made of cold anger and pain.

"That was a very foolish thing you did, _my dear_."

Erik spit the words at her as though each one left a foul taste in his mouth. He grabbed the torch from its bracket and immediately began leading Christine down a side corridor. His knowing strides carried them quickly down the narrow tunnels, Christine had to practically run to keep up with him.

"It wasn't enough that they feared me as a ghost, you had to reveal to them a living, breathing monster!" Erik's voice roared like a lion down the empty corridors.

"No, Erik," Christine gasped, "Erik, you are not a mon…"

"Tell me, _my dear_ , was it your precious vicomte's idea to unmask me so that all of Paris could despise me as well?!"

The noose tightened even more around her heart, tears welled up in her eyes.

"Forgive me, Erik. Please, please, I'm sorry, I…."

Erik stopped so suddenly that Christine slammed into him. Twirling around Erik forcibly backed her up against the wall, still holding tightly to her wrist. He positioned himself so his body was right up next to hers, one of his legs positioned right between her own. Christine's breath caught at feeling so much of his hard body against hers so intimately once again. He forced the torch into another bracket above their heads so he could see her face clearly. Then Erik released Christine's wrist to brace his arms on the wall so that Christine's face was caged between them. Breathing heavily, he brought his face down closer to hers. Christine wasn't sure what emotion she was seeing play across his features: anger…. indifference…. pain…want…. hunger?

" _Forgive me_ , Erik, you say. _Please_ , you say. _Please_? Very well, Christine. Your poor hideous beast will grant you your request. I have already given you everything else that I have to give. My music, my protection, my admiration, my very soul is yours to command. You have shunned me, and you have shamed me but I can't help but love you! So I will forgive you, and love you, and never ever leave you…. once you have consented to be my bride."

Christine stared up at him in surprise but she couldn't find any words to answer him. Erik did not seem to mind her speechlessness but leaned his face down further to graze the side of Christine's neck with his lips. Just as before on the stage, it was the slightest touches but they licked her skin with fire and caused goosebumps to rise on her flesh. Up and down his lips traveled, occasionally she felt the velvety feel of a tongue flick across her skin. A faintest moan fell from her own lips. Christine did not realize that she had been clinging to the stone wall for support until she became aware of the slight pain in her fingers.

Erik answered her moan with a satisfied sound of his own. "Oh Christine, your fire burns me. I can feel here under your skin, under my lips. I felt it come alive on the stage. You feel it now too don't you?"

"Yyy..yes."

"I have dreamed countless dreams of you, my Christine," Erik crooned. "An angelic bride sent from heaven dressed in pure white. Oh yes, even a beast can dream of beauty. Do you know what I have seen in my dreams?"

The vibration of his words hummed against her skin were making Christine's responses come out as breathless sighs. Even without music Erik's words found a way to be melodic.

"Noooo."

Erik left her neck to bring his lips up to her ear. Reaching down, Erik gently lifted Christine's hands away from the wall and intertwined her fingers with his own.

"I have dreamed of you..only you…standing before me in splendor on our wedding night. My sweet, pure bride, waiting so calmly to gift her husband with her most sacred virtue. Such a vision…but perhaps that gift has already been given."

His last words had dripped with ice. Christine had been so entranced by his words and the feel of his hot breath on her ear that it took her a moment to notice that his body had suddenly become rigid and hard once more.

"What do you mean, Erik?" She asked confused.

After a moment's pause Erik removed his lips from her ear to look into her eyes.

"What I mean, my dear, is have you already whored yourself to the Vicomte de Chagny?"

"Erik!" Christine felt as though he had physically slapped her with the question. Confused and hurt by his words Christine tried to free her hand from Erik's grasp. Erik, however, would not let her budge.

"Did you let him caress your soft curves? Did you moan his name in ecstasy when he kissed your most sacred flesh? Did you beg him as he entered your body again…and again….and again."

To emphasize his meaning, Erik thrust his hips forcefully into Christine with each " _again"_.

Hot tears flowed down Christine's shocked face. Her heart had suddenly stopped beating.

"How could you be so cruel?" She hated how weak her voice sounded. "How could you possibly think that of me?"

Yes, she did love Raoul but had never shared with him more than her kisses and gentle embraces. For Erik, who had known her for so many years, to think so little of her hurt more than a physical blow.

"Cruel? Cruel!" Erik's voice roared once more. "You know nothing of cruelty! You have never known cruelty from my hands! It is _you_ who is cruel. I gave you everything I had and you spit upon my offerings. I gave you my music, I lovingly nurtured your talent, I even saved you from the lecherous hands of that repulsive Joseph Buquet!"

Christine had heard rumors that some of the ballet girls had been horribly attacked and that Joseph Buquet had been the culprit, but no one had ever been able to prove it. She had felt eyes wretched eyes follow her but she had never known that she could have just as easily have been his next victim. Erik was slightly trembling in his turmoil.

"You take and take from me till I am nothing more than a ghost. I am a man! I breathe, and feel, and desire like any other. All I asked for is your love. Why am I denied just menial requests?"

Christine had shut her eyes, she couldn't bear to see his face. It wasn't his scarred flesh; it was the horrible accusing pain in his eyes. She wanted to shut out the lash of his words and the pain that laced each one. Christine could only listen as his heavy breathing began to slow.

"Why?" he breathed.

Just as she was about to open her eyes to look up at him, Erik swooped down and claimed her lips in a kiss. It was their first kiss, and it would be seared into Christine's memory until her last breath. His lips felt so soft and warm against her own. Sharing kisses with Raoul had always felt sweet and innocent, but this moment was different. Just as his music created a certain magic with just a single note, the feel of Erik's kiss gave the promise of a stronger and more powerful passion waiting to be released.

Christine knew that Erik meant for the kiss to be a punishing, and dominating gesture. However, his hesitant pauses as his lips slightly moved against hers revealed his innocence in the art of kissing. Still shaken by his hurtful words Christine cautiously leaned in to kiss him in turn. With her gentle coaxing, Christine silently urged him to follow her in this dance. She prayed that he would let this moment they shared to speak volumes that her words could not. Slowly, gently, they moved together; Erik followed her lead until they found themselves locked in a tight embrace, each holding onto the other for dear life.

Far too soon they had to separate, each panting to catch their lost breath. Christine's legs threatened to fall out from under her as they quivered with excitement. Erik pressed his forehead to Christine's; she could not help but see the single tear that fell from his eye.

"Oh Christine, tell me that you love me. Tell me that you still love your angel of music. Even if it is only a little."

"I do love you, Erik." The words slid so easily off her tongue.

"But you still love the Vicomte as well."

Christine knew that she could not lie to him, no matter how much the truth would still hurt him. Before she could reply, however, a commotion from high above them made them look up to the ceiling. The pounding of feet and angry shouts were muffled by the stone but were steadily growing louder.

"Damn. I was hoping for more time, no matter. It makes no difference."

Erik looked back down at Christine. "Christine, my love, we will have to continue this discussion another time. Right now, we have a wedding to get to."

Erik grabbed hold of her hand and the torch once more before walking briskly back down the corridor. Time suddenly seemed to speed up as her ballet-trained legs whisked her down one corridor after another. One, two, three more darkened tunnels until they came to the little boat that would take them to the entrance of his home. Erik's powerful arms rowed them easily through the water. The farther Christine traveled into Erik's domain, the less frightened she felt. Or perhaps she was just becoming numb to the sensation, the new sensations she was feeling were causing havoc within her.

"Erik?" Christine found herself suddenly asking. "Were you pleased with the opera? Was it everything you hoped for?"

"It was exquisite." He replied. "You were exquisite."

"I just want you to know…every note that I sang I sang only for you."

A moments pause fell between them before Erik simply responded, "thank you."

They had reached the entrance to Erik's home but Christine was surprised that the sounds of the organ playing greeted them as they reached the shore.

"Erik?" Christine asked looking back at Erik. He jumped out of the boat and pulled Christine out as well.

"It would seem, my dear, that we have a guest."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Sweet Lord in Heaven, Erik has kidnapped a priest!**_

The words sat mutely on Christine's tongue as she caught sight of who it was that had been playing the organ. Erik had possessively wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her away from the shore and up to where an elderly priest sat comfortably in front of Erik's organ. His fingers did not fly across the keys as easily has Erik's did but there was no doubt that he had known his share of time sitting in front of an instrument. The silvery white of his hair stood out as a vivid contrast to the black folds of his cassock. As they approached he turned to acknowledge them with silvery white eyes.

"I was wondering when you would return. It is not very polite to abandon your guest without at least a cup of tea, or some nice brandy if you were feeling generous."

He may have appeared elderly but the voice belonged to a much younger man that had known laughter, joy, and love. It was a voice that Christine had had the privilege of hearing while he gave a sermon on a few occasions.

"Monsignor Michel?"

Monsignor Xavier Michel was a beloved clerical pillar of the city, honored by the elite and adored by the poorest of paupers. It was not quite common to see a man who was not only on a first-name basis with the mayor of Paris, but also sat among the filth in back alleys to teach poor children how to read. It was rumored that the nobility of Paris offered up outrageous donations of gold to the Church in the hopes that Michel would baptize their newborn children. The rumors that followed him through the gutters painted him as an embodied saint with the power to heal and to convert. He would have lived on to become archbishop except a terrible fire had left him blinded. He spent most of his days now in the country where he gave lectures at a local seminary. On occasion, however, he returned to the city where the Opera Populaire was always willing to offer him excellent tickets on the house.

Christine looked up at Erik in frantic disbelief. "Erik, what have you done? You kidnapped a priest?!"

Erik let out a short grunt of amusement. "You think so little of your angel? I merely borrowed him for the evening, he will be going back as soon as his work is done."

Monsignor Michel's face had lifted in surprise at the sound of Christine's voice and smiled warmly.

"Erik, you have brought a companion? If I am not mistaken, that is the voice of the lovely Christine Daae. And might I add- ha! Borrowed, indeed!"

Erik did not immediately answer him, instead he looked rather annoyed as he left Christine's side and went to the older gentlemen and took him by the crook of his arm. Surprisingly gentle, Erik led him away from the organ to a plush armchair that was surrounded by sheet music and stacks of books.

"You were supposed to stay here. That's why I got you those bloody braille books." Erik huffed as he sat him down. "The last thing I need is you tripping over something and breaking that foolish neck of yours in my home before you are of use to me."

Michel huffed indignantly and folded his hands in his lap. "Well that's a fine way to speak to your dear friend, I must say. I give up my one evening at the opera to travel down a god awful amount of stairs to then be told to sit and _read._ Well you just see if I go anywhere with you again."

"I never said we were _dear_ friends." Erik replied dryly.

"Yes, we are. God told me that we would be dear friends." The smallest hint of a smile twitched at the end Michel's lips, otherwise his face was void of emotion.

"He did not." Erik stated exasperated.

"Oh yes he did."

"Very well, what else did he say?"

"Well how should I know? I'm just a poor, old, blind man."

At this point Christine burst into a fit of giggles which was made even more intense by Erik's look of extreme annoyance and bafflement at the old man. Christine was not even sure if Erik had just been chastised or just been teased, either scenario seemed completely bizarre and extremely humorous to her. For a moment Erik could only watch her in silent wonder as the waves of laughter rocked her small frame. He looked as if he did not know how to react to her laughter. Erik walked back over to her as she gently wiped away a tear that had escaped from her eye. Gently he cupped her face in his palm, as the last strands of laughter gaily danced around the stone walls. For just a brief moment in his eyes, Christine thought she saw the shadow of a young boy. A young boy who had never known what it felt like to laugh so openly and freely.

 _My poor pitiful Erik. What kind of life have you known?_ Christine protectively wrapped her own hand around his.

Michel chuckled a little himself. "Laughter is one of the great gifts of the world. You really should try it sometime, Erik."

Erik looked away from Christine and immediately she could tell that the words had affected him greatly. Once more Erik drew back into himself and once more he was the fearful Opera Ghost. His fingers continued to caress her skin but he suddenly felt so far away from her.

"Maybe I should have laughed more as a child. Perhaps while I was being starved? Or maybe as I was beaten? The audience always loved to laugh at that." Erik responded, his voice grim and resentful. "Maybe I would be a more pleasant fellow if I had simply laughed through every atrocity heaped upon my head."

 _Beaten? Starved?_ Erik had never talked about his childhood, or really any part of his life outside the opera house. He had been a primary element of her life for so many years and yet she did not even know what his surname was. How could she love someone so deeply and yet know so very little about them? Even though it might be painful for him, Christine hoped that one day Erik would tell her everything. If he opened up to her, then perhaps she could lighten the burden set on his strong shoulders.

Michel's smile fell from his face and for the first time he truly looked like an elderly man. His shoulders drooped slightly as he let out a long sad sigh. "The past can only effect your future happiness if you continue to allow it. Only you can decide whether to face your future with love, happiness….and yes, laughter, in your heart."

Rumbles of distance voices above their heads suddenly pricked at Christine's ears, and by Erik's sudden upward look towards the ceiling, she knew he heard it too. Pulling his hand away from her face he once more pulled her forward, back toward the bedroom.

"I will gladly laugh when we are far away from the burning inferno above our heads and the infuriating mob that it spat out." He called over his shoulder as they stepped into the room.

It was just as she remembered it. The lavishly decorating peacock bed with its rich velvet fabrics took up the majority of the room. Golden candle light flickered from numerous candelabras and in the middle of the bed was a beautifully sewn wedding dress. Christine could not speak as she stepped forward to run her fingers gently over the fine stitching of the bodice. The fabric of the gown was so purely white it almost appeared to glow. Christine had never seen a large number of wedding dresses but she could tell immediately that this one was not only made of the finest material but had also been loving designed just for her. She knew instantly that it would fit her like a glove.

"Inferno?" Monsignor Michel's voice echoed from the next room. "Erik… what are you talking about?"

"The chandelier." Christine replied though only Erik heard the gasp of whisper. "The audience. My God."

Christine did not want to think about what was happening above their heads, what was happening to her beloved Opera Populaire. Perhaps Erik was mistaken and the chandelier had not caused too much harm.

Erik released her hand and pressed his body firmly behind her. Without question, her body immediately leaned into his for support. Christine felt like her own body now obeyed him without even asking her what she wanted. God help her, it was so much easier to let go and fall into him.

 _Was Raoul safe?_ Even in her own thoughts she only dared to whisper his name, especially when Erik was so close to her that she could feel the heat off his skin and the scent of his skin filled her nostrils.

"Do not think of it. It is time to put on your dress, my love." Erik brought her hand up to his mouth for a quick kiss. "I am going to go buy us some more time. I shall return in time to speak my vows."

With a turn of his heel he was briskly heading for the entrance of his home. Michel, on the other hand, was not ready to drop the current subject.

"Erik," he stated in a firm voice, rising up from his chair. "What has happened?"

"You have fifteen minutes to prepare to perform our wedding ceremony." Erik called over his shoulder as he flung on a hooded cloak. "I shall return as soon as I've detoured our current nuisance."

"Erik!" Michel's voice had lost any trance of laughter. "What have you done?!"

Christine peered into the room just enough to see Erik spin around forcibly to face the monsignor.

"What have I done?!" Erik bellowed the question like a wounded animal. Even from her distant position Christine saw the madness in his face. The slight tremor of his body showed the restraint he used to not fling himself at the elderly gentleman. Instead his anger was taken out on a nearby decanter which found itself shattered into fragments against the wall.

"What I had to do! They were going to put me in chains again, Michel! Back into a cage! And why?! Because I had the audacity to exist! Well damn them all to hell, never again!"

 _ **Again….again…..again**_ …..

The word angrily echoed all around Christine.

Taking in long deep breaths Erik smoothed back his wild hair with his hands. "I could handle their hatred…their fear…. I've lived with it my whole life. But he was going to take my Christine away. And that…is unbearable. I do not need the world's love, but I need hers. Her love makes me feel like perhaps God has not forsaken me. That I am truly not the demon I have been told I am!"

Monsignor Michel continued to stand, boldly facing down a man who could easily snap his neck without any difficulty. He no longer needed to yell, his next words rang clearer than any shout.

"I have not once….not once in all these years, believed you to be a demon. Not a demon, not a monster, not a phantom. Just a man. A man who so desperately in need of love but has been beaten into believing love can only be demanded or taken. Love is not about what you want or need, it is about what the person you love needs no matter how much it pains you. Love is not selfish, love is sacrifice. You say you need Christine, well what does Christine need?"

Erik did not reply at once, he only tied the cloak around his throat and dropped the cowl to hide his eyes. Christine could not see for the second time that night, tears fell from his eyes.

"Fifteen minutes, old man."

With a swish of his cloak, Erik turned to push away a heavy curtain that blocked a hidden passageway. As silent as a ghost he vanished behind the curtain with only the faintish swish of material giving away his presence had just been there. Christine vaguely noticed how comfortable the faded oriental rug felt on her knees as she fell to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she laid down her head and wept.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine did not weep for herself. The tears that wetted her cheeks were for her beloved Opera Populaire, which has been her home since she was seven years old. The tears were for Meg and Madame Giry, who she loved like her own family and would probably never see again.

Tears for her father, who she loved and continued to miss each and every day, but who had also seeded a desire for music so deeply within her that it was an all-consuming entity. It was a passion, but also an obsession. It had been nurtured first by her father and then lovingly matured by Erik. It was a blessing and a curse entwined as one.

She wept tears for her Erik and for the past he had had to suffer through alone. Then lastly, she cried for Raoul and the sweet moments they had shared together. It had been so easy to fall in love with the little boy who had once called her "little lotte" and filled her mind with pretty dreams. He had tried so hard to be her knight in shining armor.

She could still try to run; get on her feet and fight to get back to Raoul. Live happily ever after in great stone house surrounded by servants and comfort. Her head knew that it was the smart thing to do, the right thing to do, but her feet nor her heart could not make a decision. All she could do was replay the moment on the stage when Erik had held her in his arms and it had felt so right. Clutching herself tighter and feeling more confused, she continued to weep. If felt good to release so much of the built of emotions trapped inside of her. Christine had not allowed herself to truly cry since the death of her father. With every spilt tear, she felt a little calmer… a little lighter…. a little closer to making a decision that would change her life forever.

"Oh look, you have returned. My goodness how time does fly when you are awaiting the return of such a jovial soul."

Erik rolled his eyes at Michel's sarcastic remark as he pulled the curtain back over the secret tunnel. He had succeeded in sealing off the catacombs entrances into his home. The only way in or out was through the corridor that lead to an abandon building just a street or two down from the opera. The angry mob racing through the tunnels would only meet dead ends in a maze of ancient rock and rats. They could be scrambling around for hours before finding their way back up to the opera house, or what was left of the opera house.

"What? No rude comeback?" Michel asked. "No thinly veiled threat of death? I must be losing my touch."

"I think you just enjoy listening to yourself speak." Erik replied, pulling the cloak from his shoulders.

Michel was an infuriating saint of a man who Erik had, on occasion, threatened to drown in his own holy water. Despite his continuing attempts at saving his soul Erik could not help but feel respect for the man who was only one a few he had come to trust in his life. At times Erik could not decide whether Michel truly was an uncommonly holy man, or he was just uncommonly strange. Most men in Michel's position would have crumbled at not only losing their sight but any further prospects in their careers. He had had respect, authority, and admiration from thousands. He had done great things and could have gone on to do even more. Any sane man would have lamented and blamed God for his losses. What did Michel do? The man had shrugged and declared God obviously did not think he needed his sight anymore.

"The nuisance has been dealt with. Are you ready to wed my bride and me?"

Folding his arms stubbornly over his chest Michel huffed. "No I am not. I am not performing a sacred rite of marriage unless I have a willing groom _**and**_ bride. So I will just sit here until that charming young lady comes out here and says, 'Yes, I am willing to marry this stubborn….ill-tempered….grouchy…"

"You know, you are.." Erik growled.

"Prone to jealousy…occasionally immoral…"

"Trying my…."

"And highly ungrateful for the gifts he was born with, grump of a man!"

"PATIENCE!"

"Oh well, bully your patience." Michel huffed back. "Don't like it, go find yourself another blind priest to bully."

"I knew I should have kidnapped the Archbishop." Erik rubbed his eyes as he tried to fight off the intense urge to deprive Michel of breath for a good minute or so. "You perform arranged marriages all the time, this is no different. You are constantly talking of saving my soul, bringing me into the arms of God. Well for the first time in my miserable life I want something good and sanctified under God…and you are denying me?"

"You are denying yourself of a chance at true happiness and redemption by taking away Christine's choice." Michel replied. "Please, Erik. Let Christine choose you. Give her the chance to return your love instead of demanding it. If you force her, then I am afraid what love for you that is in her heart will slowly perish."

He wouldn't. He couldn't lose Christine. He…He…

Erik was afraid.

So, so afraid of that one small little choice.

" _ **Gawwwd look at it! No wonder it's own mother sold 'im off. What woman in 'er right mind would love such a 'ideous monster?"**_

The voice from his past made him unwillingly shiver. Feeling the flesh of his own face, Erik in his mind's eye saw that pretty boy, Raoul; with his handsome features chiseled into an unblemished face. No doubt he had been protected by his aristocratic title, wealth, and doting parents his whole life. It had not taken anything for his eyes to set on Erik's Christine.

 _It was not fair_. So bloody, cruelly unfair for a man with everything to seek out the one treasure in Erik's life. Was he not entitled to even a scrap of happiness? How much more was he supposed to suffer?

The onslaught of a thousand memories creeped up Erik's spine causing his heart to beat frantically and his palms to sweat. Steading himself he fought back against the tide that threatened to drown him.

"I….I can't, Michel." Erik's voice trembled slightly. "I just can't."

Turning away from the pitying look on Michel's face Erik made his way towards his bedroom.

 _ **You ask too much of me. Far too much. It's never enough for you, is it? If I was never meant to know love then you shouldn't have placed me in my mother's womb! You are supposed to be an all loving father but you are not if you take her away from me! You hear me?! I….I….**_

The rant towards a heavenly father he had never let himself trust died instantly away when he stepped into the dimly lit room and found his heart crying on the Persian carpet. Christine's weeping did not make a sound, only the slight tremble of her body gave it away. Her long hair hid her face from his view as she held her body as though she would fall apart otherwise. She looked so small and innocent. He had done this to her.

 _ **I am a demon. A monster. Forgive me, for I dared to love an angel**_ _._

Erik thought that he knew what true pain felt like, having suffered through countless bouts of physically and emotional abuse, but nothing compared to feeling his entire world shatter like the shards of a mirror. All of his plans, all of his anger, all of his wants collapsed upon themselves as his knees hit the ground.

Gently he reached out his hand to caress her chestnut curls. Christine looked up at him slowly, wiping at the last remaining tears that clung to her eyelashes.

 _ **God damn him.**_

Removing his hand from her hand Erik gently cupped her cheek in his palm.

" _Command me_."

The words were so painful to speak that Erik's throat felt burned by the syllables.

Christine blinked back up at him, her face a strange mixture of emotions that he could not quite place. Slowly she lifted herself off the carpet and kneeled in front of him.

"Command you to do what, Erik?" Christine asked him in reply.

"My Christine, command me to set you free." Erik pleaded though his heart screamed in dying protest. "Command me back into the shadows. Command me to run and never see your face again. Command me….and I will obey."

It would kill him. There was no life for him without Christine, but as he looked at the small damp trails her tears had left on her skin Erik knew that he would give his last breath to make her happy. He loved her so much. Fighting once more to control the pain fighting to escape, Erik dropped his hand from her cheek and bowed his head in shame; waiting for the minute when Christine would deliver the killing stroke. The faintest brush of gentle fingers on his face caused Erik to tremble slightly. He tried to look up at her but she coaxed him gently to lay his head down on her knees. Her fingers left his face to stroke through the strands of his hair. It was such an intimate but innocent act that Erik could hardly breathe as he wrapped one arm around Christine's waist.

"Your hair is longer that I thought. Lighter too." Christine did not sound angry or sad. "Beautiful. Why do you cover it with wigs?"

Erik had never spoken to anyone about his time among the gypsies, especially Christine, but with each caress of her fingers his strength left him to resist.

"The _Rom Baro_ … he always grabbed me by my hair. There were times when I would bleed from where he would rip it out. Then when I was finally free….I….I felt safer to keep it hidden."

"Oh, forgive me." Christine began to pull her hand away but in sheer panic Erik reached out to her.

" _please._ Don't stop."

Wordlessly, Christine continued her ministrations. Erik sighed in relief.

"There is so much that I wish to know." Christine spoke quietly. "So much that I wish to know about you and your life. For so many years I never once asked you so many things."

"We have a lifetime to ask such questions." Erik replied.

"And would you share it all with me, Erik? All your memories? The good and the bad?"

"You have only to ask it of me." Christine could not doubt the sincerity in his voice.

"We both have been burdened so long by our pasts. Tell me of the future, Erik. What a future for us could be? We can not stay here forever."

A spark of hope ignited within Erik's heart, flickering with each heartbeat. So delicate was the light that it could easily have been blow out by a single breath.

"Our future was never here beneath this opera house. No more shadows, no more hiding. Our home would be far out in the country where we could live in peace. Somewhere where we could watch the sun rise over green fields, and vast open skies. Or anywhere else in the world; Italy, your childhood home in Sweden, or even across the great ocean to America."

Christine closed her eyes and let Erik's voice fill her mind as his words painted the canvas of a dream.

"If you would let me, I would greet each morning with by your side; walk every trail and cross every stream. With every sun set I want to fill our home with music for you…with you."

"It's a beautiful dream, Erik." Christine focused on keeping her voice steady as she uttered her next words. "But if I choose to walk a different path….would you let me? Could you let me?"

Erik turned his head so that he could gaze up into her beautiful face. He did not even try to hide his pain.

"Then I would let you go."

Looking down at him, seeing him completely open and exposed to her for the very first time, Christine could truly see how beautiful he really was.

"And what if I wanted to love you?...Care for you….show you a beautiful world that has been denied to you for so long. Would you let me, Erik?"

"Oh Christine."

Reaching up to grasp her hand into his, he reverently kissed it before placing it his heart, a heart that would forever belong to her.

"That is all I ask of you."


End file.
